


Lull

by Sylvestris



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: F/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-sexual, Unrequited attraction, invasions of personal space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvestris/pseuds/Sylvestris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Todd tries to help Lydia unwind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lull

It's not clear what she's afraid of, exactly, but it runs through her like electricity in power lines: get close enough and you can hear it. Her breath shivers in the slight hollow at the base of her throat, he sees, when he's close enough to make out the individual stitches in her collar and the tiny gold links of her necklace.

He has his hand on her shoulder one day, and she's not shaking him off, not even flinching, not yet, and without thinking about it he searches with his fingertips for the seams of tension under her skin. He'd noticed Lydia rubbing the back of her neck and restlessly arching her shoulders every now and then, as if she was stiff or sore, and no wonder; her muscles are like wire. Maybe she's tired, or distracted, because she still doesn't pull away. Todd presses his thumb into the curved bone of her shoulder and she breathes out sharply, not hurt, more surprised, as if slipping gingerly into hot water. Her eyes are wide and uncertain.

Todd moves so he's sitting behind her and lays his hands on her back, splayed, where wings would be. She's trembling, but so slightly he hadn't noticed. His thumbs trace the edges of her shoulderblades like the spines of books. The nape of her neck shines white above her collar as she leans forward, head down, face hidden. Light catches the clasp of her necklace, tangled in her hair.

He strokes her shoulders through the layers of her jacket, sweeping up toward her collarbones, and his hands make such soft harmless sounds against the fabric. In the spaces between strokes he only hears her breathing and his pulse drumming in his temples. He wonders if this is how she feels all the time. She carries herself as if she knows how easily she could fall and break, and he still doesn't quite understand why; he would smooth her down and ease the fear out of her if he knew how. Her heartbeat presses against his palms, a faint fluttering, and it makes him think of holding a hummingbird in cupped hands: they get so still when they're scared or stunned.

 

This isn't what she wants, but it's tolerable. She got used to the heat that sinks down everywhere like a low ceiling, and somehow she got used to living the way she does now, and she sits quietly as Todd works her open, because it feels safer not to struggle. She doesn't relax so much as submit.

He's careful, but there's an irresistible blunt weight behind the pressure of his hands. Sensation blooms where he touches her, unlocking muscles held so taut they were numb. Like this, he draws away the tension until her head is swimming and she's unsure how to hold herself up. She flexes her hands and finds them slack, slow to curl into fists. Her eyes feel glazed; too much staring into space, trying to see nothing.


End file.
